A few wild turkeys wandered across my place this morning.
Not hurriedly. Not nervously. They weren’t glancing over their shoulders or ducking behind trees.
They were strolling.
Which, given the occasional shotgun blast I’ve been hearing lately, made me want to open the door and ask, “Are you guys in season?“
If so, they may have chosen my place wisely.
I don’t hunt. There isn’t a shotgun tucked beside the fireplace. The most immediate threat I pose to a turkey is probably taking its picture.
Welcome to October in the country.
This is still one of the adjustments from living in Kitchener. There, if you heard gunfire from hunters, you likely drove a considerable distance out of town first.
Here? Maybe a couple hundred yards away.
BOOM.
Then silence.
Back to the fire crackling in the fireplace.
Duck hunting season is underway, and other hunting seasons are around this time of year. Deer season is coming, which presumably means the occasional distant blast will become an even more familiar part of the soundtrack.
What I’ve found interesting since moving here, though, is how different the reality of hunting can be from some of the stereotypes surrounding it.
Several people I know hunt. They also have tremendous respect for wildlife.
Those two things aren’t contradictory.
The hunters I’ve gotten to know aren’t heading into the woods because they enjoy killing something. They hunt for food. A successful season means venison, duck, goose, moose, wild turkey, or other game goes into the freezer and feeds their families for months.
They also seem to appreciate the animals and the land, which comes from spending considerable time among both.
They notice things.
They know when animals are moving and what their seasons are. They pay attention to habitat and weather. They know the deep woods and waterways around here in ways I’m still learning.
There’s a respect involved.
It’s easier for me to understand now because wildlife has become part of everyday life.
Nature isn’t something I have to drive somewhere to experience anymore.
Sometimes it walks across my place. I’ve seen deer nearby. Wild turkeys apparently consider the property part of their morning commute. Birds I barely noticed when I lived in the city now become part of the daily scenery.
And during hunting season, occasionally there’s that distant BOOM.
Then everything becomes quiet again.
It has changed how I understand what it means to appreciate wildlife.
You can admire a deer standing at the edge of the woods across the road and also understand why someone might legally hunt one and put the meat in a freezer.
You can enjoy watching ducks on the water while knowing somebody nearby hunts ducks for food.
For many people here, those aren’t competing ideas.
They’re part of the same relationship with the land.
I still won’t be joining them – and no, I don’t have anything against hunting.
I’ll happily leave the hunting to people who know what they’re doing while I remain near the fireplace with my coffee, my laptop, or head outside for a long, brisk walk or two today.
But I’m starting to understand the culture around it much better.
And I’ll continue providing temporary sanctuary to whatever wanders across my property.
Although those turkeys this morning might want to check the calendar.
Just in case.
